My Boys, continued.
I was tiered. And, as too many of my stories start out, I decided to take a nap. I know what you're thinking. Foolish mom. And I am. I knew something could happen if I took my eyes of those two boys for 10minutes. But sleep got the best of me.
When I woke up, my boys (4 and 3) were playing sweetly on my floor. Few, I thought. I got a little nap and nothing is the worse for it. I headed into the pantry to see what I had to make for dinner. Hum....not much. Could have sworn I had more stuff in here...guess I did a pore job at the shopping this week. Looks like it has to be leftovers tonight.
As I heated spaghetti and meat sauce in the microwave, my husband got home for work. Normally I get a kiss first thing. This day I got, "Have you been in the garage?"
Puzzled, I followed Dan back out into the garage. Then I saw why my cupboards were so bear. Why hadn't I realized it before? My boys had raided my pantry. There, on the floor of the garage, hidden to one side of our car, was a giant pretzel tub full of...my pantry. They had taken oatmeal, flour (whole wheat and white), sugar (brown and granulated), pudding mixes, crystal light mix, Gatorade's, malted vinegar, baking soda, baking powder, a box of kosher salt, and a brand new giant bottle of extra virgin olive oil and mixed it all together. I was at my whits end. These two sooooo knew not to do this. In fact, a few weeks earlier they had done the same thing on a much smaller scale and been punished for it (last time it was only the flours and water).
We called the boys into the garage for a talk.
Their side: We wanted to bake a cake. We were making a cake.
Did you know this was a bad idea? "Yes. But we like baking..." said 4 year old Everett.
"Then lets bake your cake," I said. Everett looked horrified. I calmly walked to the oven and turned it on. Then I pored as much of that nasty stuff as I could fight into my biggest cake pan. "There is too much here to bake. Would you guys like some of the leftovers?" Everett, still looking in shock, shook his head no. Caedmon said he wanted some. I put some in a bowl for Caed, but he didn't try it.
When the cake was done, I put two pieces on the table for my boys and spaghetti on the table for Seren, Dan, and myself. The boys didn't say a word for a long time. Finally, Everett asked for some spaghetti. "Sorry, honey. I don't want to wast all that stuff. It is going to cost me a lot of money to replace all the things you boys used today. So I think you will need to eat this until it is gone."
Everett look beyond puzzled. "But we don't know how to make a cake," he said.
"So remember not to try to bake without mommy helping. Mommy does know how." my husband responded.
"I want to try it." Said Caed.
"Go ahead, Caed. I tried it," I told him,"it isn't very good."
Caed picked up a piece with his fork.
"NOOO! DON"T CAED! IT'S POISON!! WE MADE A POISON CAKE!" shouted Everett. It was all I could do to not laugh.
"It isn't poison. Only yucky."
Caed tried the cake. Then drink a lot of water. "It taste like yucky dough." He told Everett.
But there was no convincing Everett.
When the boys woke up the next morning, they asked for oatmeal. I reminded them about the cake. All our oatmeal was in that cake. They decided breakfast no longer sounded good. So i gave then both a giant cup of milk.
I also sent a piece of this cake with Everett to preschool. Harsh? No. Not if you know Everett. He need this bounder set firm. After I dropped Everett off at his class, I found the preschool director and told her what had happened and what was in Everett's lunch box. I also apologized for having not reminded Everett about this being his lunch and explained my feelings about this boundary. It wasn't that I wanted Everett to eat only this cake, but I couldn't give him any thing else yet. The director got a laugh about it and said she would be glad to help out.
When I picked up the boy's, I found out that the director had lunch in Everett's class. She said when he opened up the Tupperware and saw the cake inside, his eyes about popped out of his head. She questioned him about it, but he didn't want to talk. Thinking the cake looked pretty good, she asked for a bit (I promise I told her what was in it!!). Her report: that was the nastiest stuff ever. Like baked throw-up. She also shared her lunch with Everett. (My boys go to the BEST preschool, boy the way.)
When the boy's got home, I told them I had thrown out the cake. I told them that any time they ever did something like this again, there would be similar consequences. And I hugged them and offered them some real food. So far, we haven't had another pantry raid.
(But before this they took the eggs! Now I remember! The "stinky cat food"!! I will write that next time.)
Friday, November 14, 2008
More stories about my boys
AKA- the partners in crime. My boys are truly amazing. They are determined, dedicated, persistent, creative, smart, and incredibly strong. They aren't afraid of anything (except monsters at night) and haven't met a challenge they are unwilling to pursue. I truly believe God has big plans for those two little men in in the making. But parenting them is no picnic. As much as I love them and feel a deep sense of honor in being given the responsibility of raising them, they push me right onto the edge of my sanity line. To give you a bit of insight into my world as their Mother, and to give myself some comic relief, I will attempt to recall some of the most challenging and scary moments I have faced raising my 5 and 4 year old boys to date.
February 2004
Everett was almost 1 and Seren, my daughter was 2 1/2. It was a Friday at our house in Austin. I know it was a Friday because Fridays were trash and recycle days for our neighborhood back then. After feeding the kids breakfast, I went to my room to go to the bathroom. Even moms have to take potty breaks once in awhile. We may be able to warred of sickness and see things with the backs of our heads, but we are, after all, still human. Maybe 2 minutes after I lift my kids playing in the living area, Seren comes into my bathroom and says, "Mommy, Everett is walking in the street."
"Well tell him no, no. We can't walk in the street," I say thinking Seren is playing a game. We play lots of pretend games like that with our children to help them learn about safety. Seren ran out of the bathroom. She was back in less then a minute.
"I told him, but he's not listening to me." (Side note. Seren is very verbal. At the age of 1 she asked a friend of mine, "Do you have cheese in the fridge, 'cause I like cheese." My friend and I got a kick out of it)
At this point I had the stomach turning thought that this might not be a game. I flew out of my bathroom, down the hall, and through the OPENED FRONT DOOR. My sweet little 11 month old was waddling down the middle the street, empty gallon of milk in hand, clad only in his little Bummies diaper, and headed straight for the recycle truck. This tiny little guy had unlocked and opened the front door all by himself. I was shocked! Seren, while capable of unlocking bolted doors, would never have done so. She knew, some how, not to. But Everett...he will try anything. I called my husband and told him what had happened. By 6pm that evening we had chains on the top of all doors that exited out house.
February 2004
Everett was almost 1 and Seren, my daughter was 2 1/2. It was a Friday at our house in Austin. I know it was a Friday because Fridays were trash and recycle days for our neighborhood back then. After feeding the kids breakfast, I went to my room to go to the bathroom. Even moms have to take potty breaks once in awhile. We may be able to warred of sickness and see things with the backs of our heads, but we are, after all, still human. Maybe 2 minutes after I lift my kids playing in the living area, Seren comes into my bathroom and says, "Mommy, Everett is walking in the street."
"Well tell him no, no. We can't walk in the street," I say thinking Seren is playing a game. We play lots of pretend games like that with our children to help them learn about safety. Seren ran out of the bathroom. She was back in less then a minute.
"I told him, but he's not listening to me." (Side note. Seren is very verbal. At the age of 1 she asked a friend of mine, "Do you have cheese in the fridge, 'cause I like cheese." My friend and I got a kick out of it)
At this point I had the stomach turning thought that this might not be a game. I flew out of my bathroom, down the hall, and through the OPENED FRONT DOOR. My sweet little 11 month old was waddling down the middle the street, empty gallon of milk in hand, clad only in his little Bummies diaper, and headed straight for the recycle truck. This tiny little guy had unlocked and opened the front door all by himself. I was shocked! Seren, while capable of unlocking bolted doors, would never have done so. She knew, some how, not to. But Everett...he will try anything. I called my husband and told him what had happened. By 6pm that evening we had chains on the top of all doors that exited out house.
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